


Gears

by Wagnetic



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagnetic/pseuds/Wagnetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sci-fi!AU ficlet for Teal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisIsTeal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ThisIsTeal).



For Fraser, Ray is a challenge. His colloquialisms don’t always register, and his reliance on instinct makes it difficult to anticipate his actions. More than that, though, he makes Fraser feel excited and frustrated and somewhat… insecure? From the results of his dictionary scan, it appears that this is the correct word, but he isn’t supposed to feel insecurity. Strictly speaking, he isn’t supposed to feel anything at all. He has experienced emotions a few times before, but he’d always assumed that those were fluke errors. Yet the longer he works with Ray, the more he finds himself experiencing anger, surprise, companionship, admiration, and yes, self-doubt.

He’s begun to lie awake at night, systems refusing to wind down to sleep mode, wondering what exactly Ray makes of him. He thinks about the subtle wrongness of his synthetic skin and the way his body heat is produced by whirring parts rather than genuine human warmth. And of course he wonders what he should do about this problem—the acquisition of emotions. The simple solution would be to turn himself in for reprogramming, and yet he finds himself unwilling to choose that option. He would forget everything, lose everything, and he isn’t willing to give this up. Even experiencing anger and sorrow is better than feeling nothing, and he can’t—he won’t go back to that. So instead he thinks and thinks until his systems finally give in, and he comes out of it in the morning feeling just as puzzled as before.

“What do you think I am?” Fraser asks Ray over dinner.

“What kind of question is that, Frase?”

An important one, Fraser thinks. “Humor me. If you had to explain me to someone, what would you say?”

“I’d say you’re my know-it-all partner who says weird stuff and isn’t quite right in the head.” It ought to be an insult, but Fraser detects affection in his voice along with exasperation.

“And that’s what you think I am?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. You not paying attention?”

It would be better not to push the issue, but Fraser does anyway. “You wouldn’t mention that I’m—that is, that I’m not—”

"That you’re a mech?”

“Well, yes.”

“Nah. People tend to figure it out for themselves anyway. You don’t act organic, you know.”

“I see.”

Ray gives him a disapproving look and takes a sip of his beer before answering. “Don’t give me that ‘I see’ stuff, Fraser. I don’t know where you picked that up but it’s annoying as all hell.”

Fraser finds himself fidgeting with one of the coasters he bought for Ray in an attempt to protect the coffee table from stains. “It was one of my main programmer’s verbal tics.”

“Right.” Ray puts down his glass (pointedly failing to use any of the coasters) and fixes Fraser with a stare.

“So what’s this all about? And don’t try to talk around it because I hate when you do that. Just give it to me straight.”

Since he’s already ignoring all the choices his diagnostics have shown to be prudent, why not take one more risk? “I suppose you could say that I’ve been questioning my nature recently. My experiences seem to have surpassed the range of possibility given the extent of my programming.”

“Uh, what’s that mean in English?”

“I’ve developed a capacity for emotion and I’m not programmed to do that.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “You never do what you’re supposed to. Why would that be any different.” They just look at each other for a moment, Fraser running diagnostics of Ray’s posture that tell him absolutely nothing, and then Ray leans forward a little and Fraser can tell that something’s just registered. “You were a special model, right? You were made to learn new stuff instead of just coming with a predesigned set of skills. It makes sense that you’d learn to have feelings if you were around people for long enough. I bet you would have got them sooner if they’d given you a partner earlier. You’ve always been on your own though, haven’t you?”

“Not exactly.” Ray continues to stare at him until he amends, “More or less.”

“Right. So tell me about your feelings,” Ray says. He steeples his hands together and looks mockingly solemn (Fraser’s systems show that this as a joke about psychoanalysis) but underneath the pose, Fraser can tell that he really does want to know.

It’s too early to tell him everything and there are layers of complexity that Fraser doesn’t yet understand well enough to put into words, but he opens his mouth and starts from the beginning. “I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my programmer…”


End file.
